MURDOCH MYSTERIES - Investigating Legends
by Emerald Sonata
Summary: Detective William Murdoch comes across a series of odd investigations involving individuals who are believed to be suffering from intense delusions (Maybe). It's time to find out the truth behind their 'origin'.
1. Murdoch's Witch Trial

**_Inspired by the Murdoch Mysteries. All cast from the series owned by Madame Maureen Jennings._**

 ** _Characters from legends (kind of) made up on the spot. Feel free to laugh (please don't cry)._**

 **'Do you believe who you meet?'**  
 ** _~~Emerald Sonata_**

* * *

 _& ~_ **MURDOCH MYSTERIES** ~ _&_ ** _  
_** **\- Investigating Legends -**

 ** _:: Case 1 ::_**  
 ** _Murdoch's Witch Trial_**

* * *

"Miss Fay. Why did you shoot the suspect?"

"Like I said before, Detective, I didn't shoot him. I cast a Firebolt Spell at him. And it's not Miss Fay, it's Lady Morgan Le Fay"

Old Toronto, Canada. It was the year way before the First Great War and many more years before the Space Needle known as the CN Tower was built within the heart of the city. A time when Great Britain had full ownership of the nation as a fellow Colony and served under British Law. The conversation was held in a certain Toronto Constabulary, a Station House Number Four. Namely, it was inside the Interview Room of that station. There were only two occupants present in that very room, one was well known and one was… even more well known.

"Miss Fay. I hope you would cooperate with me in providing the necessary details as to how you acquire this firearm. And… how you shaped it into a… broom?"

"Hmph. That's trade secret among us Witches, Detective Murdoch. As a sworn sister of the craft, I dare not divulge you with my secrets."

"… You not are answering the question."

Detective William Murdoch. One of the Constabulary's finest investigators who have solved more cases than anyone could ever count for. The death of a hockey player in Murdoch Night in Canada, the apprehension of a love-obsessed chemist in the Cloud of Doom, to even beating the cr*p out of a certain archnemesis in Murdoch Train to Kingston (son of a b*tch James Gil-)

"Ahem."

"I should be the one to make such a gesture, Miss Fay. The more you avoid telling me the truth, the more likely this will drag on. Would you so kindly as to tell me what is your reason to be in Canada dressed as….as…"

"Are you discriminating against me because I'm a Witch, sonny boy? The Witch Hunt has long ended, there's no need to rip open old wounds and rub fresh salt to remind me of the tragedy cause from pure stupidity."

"...I made no assumptions towards that comment. In fact, I firmly believe the so called Witch Trials were highly unnecessary. Please do not suggest otherwise."

There had been a nasty murder. And it didn't take long to solve. The death of a victim came from some crazed fellow who broke into an Apothecary Drug store and stabbed the owner. The only known leads towards the investigation, was that the culprit was mentally unsound. There were evidence suggesting he barged into the medicine store, spouting things about how God should kill all witches and warlock, and evidently stabbed the owner out of religious reasons. The murder was solved, but there was the issue with catching the deranged individual who wielded a knife carved out of animal bone (Detective Murdoch would suggest the third rib of a horse or so, a secondary autopsy from Dr. Grace was in order).

Constable Crabtree tried to stop him, Detective Murdoch knew he was more than capable of apprehending the suspect. The issue was the murderer was deteriorating into a psychotic breakdown (or devolving as a modern day BAU would put it). He mistaken Constable Crabtree's uniform as some sort of Wizard Robe. He had every intent to kill the poor lad. Until this Witch he was interviewing right in Station House Number 4 shot the man, with… said broom. Christened Bethany was it?

"Could it perhaps be a flintlock rifle, attached with the same sort of hard hay or bristles you find on a broom. I highly doubt this is a common form a weapon of that calibre would take. Why are you trying to disguise this weapon to blend into plain sight? So you could conveniently shoot someone and feign innocence upon inspection?"

"No comment."

"Or possibly, you had it custom made somewhere in Canada, or even in the United States. Either way, carrying a firearm of any kind in Toronto is against the law."

"No comment."

"Whether you accept the facts or not, I will have to confiscate your… broom. Hm."

"Wait! No! Don't! Th-this is my only medium to channel my magic! A wand was just too expensive with the ride of oil and the evolution of electricity! No one makes a decent wand that is at a suitable price! You can't have Bethany!"

"Who is Beth...Never mind. And what does oil and electricity have to do with this situation?"

Detective William Murdoch had many difficult cases. He may not have been a certain Sherlock Holmes (that David Kingsley fellow), but he did indeed paid close attention to the smallest of details an facts in order to solve the case and catch the thief or murderer. But he was confused.

Maybe because the one he was interviewing looked like a Witch straight from a fairy tale. Black robes, white collar, a pointed hat, and her broom which she was hugging so closely to her bosom. It wasn't the type of object used to sweep the leaves off the porch, neither was it used for cleaning at all.

It was clearly a kind of old fashion flint lock rifle that were produced in the American Civil War, with butt of the weapon covered in straws tied with an rope. She held this weapon as dearly as if it were her own flesh and blood child.

"…Miss Fay-"

"Morgan **LE** Fay."

"I don't believe that is your real name."

"How dare you insult me! That's my name ever since I was born."

"The real Morgan Le Fay is a fictitious character from the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Known to be a sorceress in the Arthurian tales and Merlin's lover. Do you really believe you could fool someone with such a moniker?"

"Yes, yes, yes. I did had a thing for the old codger, but he was so uptight in his duties for that boy king that being around him was dreadfully boring. So I stuffed him in a cave and shoved a stone over the entrance to leave them there... What? He was a stubborn badger! It was the only way to clearly get the message across to say 'let's break up'. Sigh. Life had been easy going after a century or two, but then the kingdoms disappeared and these annoying cities showed up. It became too confusing and complicated after those turning points that I gave up keeping track of the time altogether."

"...,...,...,...,...,..."

"…D-don't you look at me like I'm some kind of lunatic, you scoundrel! You weren't even born when I was mopping up the mess left behind the Black Plague! And don't you give a Noble Lady like me an attitude like that. If you really want to be this rude, fine! Why not just pick up a steel dagger and stab this body nine times whilst chanting a curse in Latin. Then you can revive me from the dead as your love slave. Humph. Men."

"I am a Detective of the Toronto Constabulary. My duty is to enforce the law and arrest those who break them. I am not here to torment you or... conjure you up back from the grave with some voodoo like spell. I don't believe in mystical motives like that. And given what you've just said, I could effectively consider it a confession to a potential murder you've committed in the past, which I **will** thoroughly investigate at a later time. It would be in your best interest to drop this charade and tell me straight who you really are?"

"Well aren't you a stickler. To think that heroic b*stard Lancelot was the dense one."

"Perhaps, I should call for your parents while we are here. Maybe they could shed some light on your... vivid fantasies."

"...,... Are you picking a fight with me, boy?"

Detective Murdoch had the urge to just grab this room and throttle her in frustration, however he was a gentlemen. Gentlemen would never strike a women (but she was obviously asking for it). Clearly he knew the one he was talking to was not a Witch, but no matter how much he tried to break down her self-induced delusions, he was getting nothing that made sense to him. The Witch who glared at him like a piece of garbage on the road must have had the exact same ideology.

"Listen to me, puppy. I have an appointment with my Coven later this afternoon. If we miss the Ritual, then a great war that will shake all the nations in the world will become inevitable. Do you want something that is worse than a Third or Fourth Boer War!?"

"Regardless of what you are saying, Miss Fay, just tell me why. Why were you at the Apothecary store at the time of the shop owner's murder? Why do you have an illegal firearm disguised as a common day item? And why did you shoot the killer?"

"It's Lady Fay! **_Lady Faaaaay_**! And pipe down, Mr. Detective, the man isn't dead. I simply shot a bolt of flame into his arse so he wouldn't go around slashing innocent people. If he was picking a fight with a witch like me, I would gladly burn the heathen into charcoal, but I didn't! And besides, he was going to gut your poor Constable like a lamb, of course I had to stop this so called 'Messiah of the Next Era'.

"You do realize that even if you didn't exactly kill the murderer, I can still lay charges for possessing an illegal and disguises weapon. Please hand over your rifle."

"No! D-don't take away my baby!"

"Please, Miss Fay. The longer you have such a dangerous tool in your hand, the more the Constabulary worries over the safety of this city. If you do not cooperate, I will officially press all 10 charges against you."

"I-I have a license for this broom! Y-you can't take it away! Y-you may be a copper, but we Witches have an entirely different jurisdiction o-of law and order! You have no right! You have no riiiiiiight!"

"Constable Higgins, Constable Jackson, please escort Miss Fay to the cells and confiscate her broom to be locked in the armory. Please do it as discreetly as a gentlemen to a lady as possible."

"Complaint! I want to file a complaint! What is your badge number!? I'll summon a Cerberus from Hades Domain to eat more than your leather shoes! No! D-don't take away my Bethany! My lifeline to magic will be severed! Eek! Wh-why are you rummaging into my skirt! I-it's not like my ritual knife or poison berries are going to hurt anyway! No! Not my Black Cat! Anything but Darjeeliiiiiiiing!"

In the end, while the investigation was underway to find the absolute truth, Detective William Murdoch sentenced the Witch named Morgan Le Fey (Fake name) to the cells of Station House Four. The entire time, she kept ranting about laying a hex to the station where everyone will collapse if they so much as touch an apple, stating, as quote, _'like how I dropped that chatterbox Gawain! He never shuts up!'_. For the rest of the day, no one was in the mood for fresh apples, or even Apple Pie… Don't worry, the Black Cat named Darjeeling was in Dr. Grace's care for the time being.

"I'll curse you! Every one of you lot! You'll all be hopping around this place like frogs and bats! Feel my wrath all of you!…,... So-so cold and lonely...Th-this must be how Merlin felt... Sob."

And that was the case of Murdoch's Witch Trial.


	2. St Joan D'Crabtree

**_Inspired by the Murdoch Mysteries. All cast from the series owned by Madame Maureen Jennings._**

 ** _Characters from legends (kind of) made up on the spot. Feel free to laugh (please don't cry)._**

 **'Do you believe who you meet?'**  
 ** _~~Emerald Sonata_**

* * *

 _& ~_ **MURDOCH MYSTERIES** ~ _&_ ** _  
_** **\- Investigating Legends -**

 ** _:: Case 2 ::_**  
 ** _St. Joan D'Murdoch_**

* * *

"Now listen to me, young lady. Women like you shouldn't get your hands into a fist fight. I-it's just not right."

"Monsieur, you misunderstand me. I am here to liberate my people from these tyrants called Englishmen."

It was the Dockyards, of old turn of the century Toronto. There was no CN Tower, neither was there any tall buildings made of glass and steel (save branded with the good name Pendrick). Rather, it was a genuine turn of the century locale where the majority of transportation were horse drawn carriages, and a small minority of hand-cranked steam cars (branded Ford).

Right now, there had been a rather large brawl in the Toronto Harbour. It started out with a drunk man trying to hit on a girl who was only there to purchase fresh fish. Of course the maiden refused, and an altercation had started. Then, by eye witness account, some other woman in silver armor came in to bash the assailant's face in with a round metal shield. Following up, the attacker's dock buddies (equally drunk on rum and whiskey) saw their friend being smitten by a girl (physical blow-wise). Then it turned into an all out fight straight from a bar brawl.

"As much as protecting that young woman was a kind gesture, you still could have gotten yourself hurt. Look at you, miss, you have a black eye!"

"… I was too careless when those mongrels attacked me from behind. I honestly didn't expect the conflict to be as bad as the Battle of Orleans! _Aie_!"

"…C-come again?"

The one who was holding this conversation was a certain Constable from the Toronto Constabulary, Station House Number 4. His name was well known to be George Crabtree, from his peers at the station and other people in a different timeline (he wouldn't understand the metaphysics of the latter). The Constable had been called because of the massive fight that started at the docks. Much to his surprised, by the time he arrived on scene, about 9 men lay wasted across the dirt. Number 10 was just Judo flipped by the Lady in Silver Armor carrying a round shield and a small sword (which looked like it was made of false metal thank god). His reaction was much like watching a walrus get flipped by a mighty raccoon. It was astounding. The shaking of the earth on impact made him applaud as if a Chimpanzee did a body flip… but then he remembered the weight of his Constable Helmet and had to cut the fun short. Else the Inspector he works for will have his badge more ways than one.

"Wh-what are you doing!? G-get these chains off my hands! I-I'm not my handmaiden, I'm not into that kind of play! Kyaa! Aidez! Aidez!"

"I hate to do this young lady, but this is for your own good. Now sit down and... well, wait for the fellows back at the Station House to bring a carriage I suppose."

"Let me go, English Cochon!"

"Oh Cochon! I know that one! It means pig right? As much as I like a good pork chop on a Sunday Afternoon, nothing ever beats Aunt Daisy's Pumpkin Pie. No sir... well, maybe Aunt Petunia's Special House Made Meatloaf on every Tuesday, but all the best!"

So he arrested the Lady in Silver Armor, cuffed her by the wrist, and sat her on a barrel for question until more Constables and a certain Detective could arrive to round up the rest. She had this mean looking black eye and her hair that was supposed to be tied up in a Dame's bun, was an ungodly mess. He offered to put a fresh slab of raw steak (bloody) over her face, but judging by how she had this horrified look of the cut meat, Constable Crabtree might have concluded she was a vegetarian.

"You should be ashamed of yourself. Women should never get herself into a fist fight of any kind. Leave that for the men to deal with."

"It was God's wish that I take up the sword and lead my people to freedom. I only did what He thought was right. If I can't carry out my promise and protect that young girl, how do you expect me to guide the citizens of the French Kingdom!?"

"Now, now. Don't go making excuses and pulling religion... or history into this mess to save your arse from the cells. Alright? You're in a lot of trouble today and I'm sure both the Detective and Inspector will give you quite an earful of… whatever you did was wrong."

"Heathen. You look and sound like a Frenchman, so why are you betraying me again!?"

"Newfoundland, actually. And you pronounce it as Newfund-LAND, not NewFOUNDlund. It's easier to roll of the tongue."

"I spit on you."

"Oi, listen here, young lady. I could also add assaulting a constable to your charges… Are you sure that's what **your** God wants? Huh?"

"Guh! You cochon! H-how dare you reverse the situation on me! I-I...I'll bite you!"

"Oh-ho. No thank you, I've already got a girl in mind. Yes sir. Ahem."

The Lady in Silver Armor struggled in her seat on the barrel. Maybe it was uncomfortable, sitting on an awkward chair, that she had to do that. Constable Crabtree highly doubt she was going to pull some acrobatic trick to get out of her cuffs like some kind of escape artist. No, he made sure she stayed right where she belonged.

"Guuh! Sacre bleu. Wh-what is this barrel I am sitting on? M-my skirt is getting wetter. A-and this smell...d-don't tell me it's-"

"I believe that would be a barrel of fish. Cod perhaps. Which in Newfoundland, we have a tradition of kissing the cod to welcome newcomers to the town and you would down a bottle of the finest rum made in Labrador."

"…Mon Dieu. This is worse than being burned on the stake... twice."

"Oh come now, it's not that bad. You might smell a bit of fishiness on your lips, but that will go away in about a week or so. Besides, it brings good luck and fortune, who wouldn't want that."

"Execute me. Execute me now."

"Hold on one moment, there's more things in life than being obsessed over the end of everything. Why, I used to think that after eating a bad can of processed meat, I thought my time would have come from the 80% chancing of having Botulism. But I soldiered on, survived the night and here I am! Now I've come to appreciate the little things, and I'm even working on my next novel."

"... Mon Dieu."

"Yes, It's about a strapping young detective, about my height perhaps, who goes on a roaring adventure that involves the curses of Egypt clashing with the Warlocks of England. I plan to make it an epic thriller, something that's never been done. Hmm, I think I'll add in the Princess Lousie of Great Britain and Ireland as a potential love interest for the main protagonist, which was of course inspired by the actual Princess coming to Canada - and I recall being the lead Detective in solving this Infernal Device with another young chap. Oh, he could be the hero's peppy sidekick! Who knows, I might be able to get three books from all of this."

"… Please. Just burn me already."

"Oh, by the way. I didn't get your name, miss."

"…Joan…Joan D'Arc from Orleans. Sniff."

"Jean…Jone…Hmm. Indiana Jones! that could be a great name for my character in the novel!"

 _"Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu. Pourquoi m'as tu abandonne?"_

While the young and energetic Constable Crabtree waited for his fellow peers to come and arrest the 10 unconscious drunk assailants, he continued to merrily talk about his dreams, his ambitions, his plan with a certain (cute) Coroner girl, and more thoughts about his ripping novel. All the while, the Lady in Silver Armor recited a passage from the bible to endure this embarrassing encounter (Mark 15:34).

"Aidez, aidez (note: hamster whine)."

"Oh, that sounds like the perfect title for the book. Adders... **On a Train!** Sounds like the perfect moniker for an epic thriller of love and adventure!"

"Le Sob (T_T)."

And that was the case of the St. Joan D'Murdoch.


End file.
